Memoriam
by AllureingEyes
Summary: Sequel to Hot Ashenvale Nights..."Who said ya could die." He whispered. "Leetle elfie."
1. A Common Factor

Scroll 1

Death is the one common factor that everyone shares. As much a part of life as living. And in the midst of battle, you never feel closer to someone as when you do with 6 inches of steel between their ribs. Watching their light die is a precious moment to be remembered, and she had so very many of those memories.

Things change and people move on. Adapt and adjust. The Sundering changed millions of lives. But they adapted. Now the scars of that fight were just that. Scars. And scars heal over time.

TTT

It had been a year since Alliance and Horde forces had landed on Pandaria. Tempers were escalating with the discovery of the heart of the old god. Alliance and Horde alike were gathering resources to beseige Orgrimmar, where the Mad Warcheif sat. Led by Vol'jin, the Darkspear revolution was coming to a close, the Seige of Orgrimmar was begining.

None of this mattered however, to a night elf sitting in the Jade Forest. East of Nectarbreeze village, across the river, in a feild of grass she sat. Her hands gripped the long grass as she sat on her hands and knees. Sweat beaded on her brow as she concentrated, her hands curling reflexively but to no avail. No change took place. She took a deep breath and dug deep inside herself, scrambling desperately for that wild part of nature that she held so dear, before slamming her fists into the ground as she screamed her defeat.

A year after being awakened and she still couldn't shape change. Her bond with nature had taken lots of time and nurturing to return to its former strength, but her skin remained as steadfast and stubborn as ever, refusing to slip away. Sighing, the woman laid down on her stomach on the grass, closing her eyes as it tickled her cheeks. The wind in this forest was always so playful. She supposed it had somthing to do with the Pandaran and their steadfast peacefullness. The moment foreign forces had landed, harsh words about the other on their lips and a quick hand for violence, they had accidentally released something. Something they had never seen. A force made of the collective emotions of everyone on the land. The Sha.

This new threat was able to burn its way through hearts and minds with its dark fire. Worming its way through you with negative emotions, reading your deepest fears. What made you explode in a rage. What did you fear most? Why did you need to take orders from others when you are so much better? It was like that dark part of your thoughts that you kept locked away had been opened and set loose, and Luna had so much darkness inside her. She avoided the Sha at any cost. It would be so easy to destroy her.

The Alliance had grudgingly agreed not to try to kill her on sight anymore. But she was far from accepted back into the ranks. And she wasn't sure she wanted to be. This new land offered more opportunites for her. Places to explore, people to meet. Maybe one of the Pandaran masters could help her change shape again. But until that time, she had taken a different path, quite the opposite of her Feral roots. She had earned a new reputation as a cold and calculating healer. Even more frightening than her panther claws, she could heal many people at once with a calculating eye, never healing too much, saving every bit of energy she could for when it was needed most. Anyone with a dangerous mission, a personal quest, or an explorer of the depths of the world wanted the healer with the opalescent hair.

And she hated it.

She had too much darkness to take a balanced path, and guarding people wasn't her forte. Killing was her proffesion. Destroying her enemies and a shower of fur and claws was her calling. But it was the cold knowledge of how to efficiently kill someone that made her an efficient healer. She knew the bodies workings. What cut would kill them fastest, which the slowest. What parts needed reignforcement for optimal performance in battle.

It had taken alot to claw her way back out from death, only to find out she had lost everything. Her abilities were gone, many of her friends had died in the Cataclysm, her own personal possesions were gone. Mamiru had died on Darkshore, drowned and washed ashore. Her brother had lived, barely, but she hadn't been to see him. Elune had granted her wish to spare his life for hers, she wasn't sure how she felt about it. She wondered if he could feel her life in him. Her heartbeat, her breath.

After saving the Tauren upon her awakening, she became weak, unable to move. The young bull had helped her. She grasped the bit of horn hanging from around her neck on a leather thong. It had been polished and smoothed from her constant rubbing. She considered it a charm of good faith. She smiled against the grass as she recalled the Tauren hunting for her, giving her some old leather clothing from his pack and the packs of his former comrades, helping her relearn to walk on shakey legs. Elune had sent him there to help her she beleived, knowing she would need him.

Before going their separate ways, she had kissed him on the forehead, between his horns, and was shocked when his fur turned white where her lips had been. She had almost paniced, but he hushed her with a booming chuckle and a pat on the shoulder. Motioning to her piece of his horn, he pointed back to his new spot. They each had a momento of eachother now. Smiling solftly, she watched him until he was out of sight, absorbed by the mountains. She had walked back to the remains of her amber chamber, the tall oval of the tree was completely smooth inside, shards of amber glass littered the ground around the roots. Something caught her eye among the amber. It was a fetish. Decorated with beads and bright colored feathers, painted with old troll runes. They were good luck charms. Trolls rarely parted with these willingly, having them since childhood made them precious to them.

Reaching down to pick it up, she saw a flash of fire to moment her fingers brushed it. Parting her lips she gasped lightly and jerked her fingers away. Taking a steadying breath, she bent down and grabbed it, mewling when she was cast into memoriam.

"Jak." She whispered. She felt his tears dripping onto her cheek. Heard his shakey breath rattle next to her. Her hand was clasped tightly in his. She wanted to tell him it would be alright, that she was ok, to entwine her fingers through his. But this was a memory, and she was dead.

"Who said ya could die." He whispered to her. "Leetle elfie."

She had been thrust into reality with a pain in her heart and tears on her cheeks. Suddenly the fetish held much more meaning to her. Wiping her cheeks, she used a piece of twine from one of the orcs boots to tie the fetish into her hair so it fell over her shoulder to rest on her collarbone. She could hide it if need be by flipping it over her shoulder. A year later she lay on her stomach on the green green grass, the fetish in hand, eyes closed and breathing deep. She dreamed of him.

TTT

Welcome back! I hope you like this intro chapter. I know its a little short but I'm still working on how to tie this all together. I promise to update soon since I wanna know what happens as well!


	2. Fields of Slaughter

**~ A big huge thanks to Roguekittiekat for being the first person to review the first chapter! And I'm very glad you enjoyed it, I love writing about this because there is so much room for flexibility. Backrounds can be told, worked in or out. People can be created and interwoven into the storyline without damaging it. It's just plain fun!~**

Scroll 2

With the eruption of the Darkspear revolution, many members of the Horde found themselves at odds with friends and loved ones. A son may disagree with his father about the direction that Garrosh wished to lead them. Best friends suddenly faced each other across battlefeilds. Lives and limbs were lost to the rising tides of anger. Families were wiped out. Livelihoods were desimated. But I think the worst thing to happen in this war, are the broken hearts left behind.

TTTT

Since having woken up in her tree, Lunaea has found herself more accepting of the other races. Humans didn't seem quite so useless in their short lived lives, and had proven to be capable warriors. Tauren were no longer lumbering beasts, but children of the earth, much like the Night elves. Orcs, while still brutish and gruff, stuck to their beleifs with a fervor equal to any priest of the light. Trolls...Trolls had recently shown themselves to be feirce defenders of their kin and loved ones. Thus, the siege.

So here she stood at the sealed gates of Orgrimaar, a rather large and imposing defensive machine before her, created in the likeness of the Kor'kron scorpions. Various corpses lines the ground at its feet, trolls and tauren mostly. Vol'jin and Baine Bloodhoof had been reeling when the Alliance had arrived and evened the odds.

"Don't be foolish Vol'jin! You have no siege weapons left! You cannot win this battle!" Shouted Nazgrim from atop the battlements.

"Our casualties are too heavy." Said Baine in his booming voice.

"Ain't no other way, mon." Vol'jin kneeled and shook his head. "We gotta stop Garrosh here an' now, else we be runnin' the rest of our lives." He gripped his bow so tightly the wood groaned in protest. Baine, suddenly noticing the approaching figures, grinned.

"Perhaps our new-found reinforcements will aid us." Causing the troll leader to whip around and grin as well.

"Dey must have taken da docks!" He exclaimed to his friend, before turning back to the alliance members before him.

"Ha ha! Welcome to da fields of slaughter." He told them happily, dramatically waving his arms in a 'please come inside' motion. As they filed past him to prepare for battle once again, Vol'jin zeroed in on a strange Night elf. A woman with hair so pale and white it seemed opalscent. It glimmered in the sunshine pink, green, blue and silver. But even more eye catching, was the troll fetish that hung from it. He stared as she walked by. She wore it proudly hanging over her shoulder, knotted in place with a string of worn leather. He suddenly noticed she had stopped next to him, and was reguarding him with a blank, if not mildly curious, look.

Her eyes roamed over his armor, his war paint, the beads woven into his hair, and stopped on the ragged gash on his upper arm. She noted that he looked dirty and exausted as she extended her arm quick as lightning and laid it upon his arm. Green energy was swirling before he could protest and his arm was healed smooth before he could look down. Wiping his arm as she moved her hand away, she turned and moved to stand with her group without a word. Looking at his arm, Vol'jin noticed nothing but smooth skin where the ragged cut had been. He had been expecting it to heal into a new scar. Looking at his friend, the Tauren did nothing but raise his eyebrows and chuff, his tail flicking in amusement.

"Dey be heros." Mumbled the troll, "No doubt about that." The battle had begun.

TTT

The siege weapon stood before them, stomping the ground and clicking wildly. All attempts to lure the machine away from the gate had failed, evidenced by the piles of corpses surrounding it. So, it seemed like it was time to fight.

Taking the time to identify the exaust ports and assigning mages to each port, they marched. Screeching as they finally came into range, the Juggernaut charged at them. The battle became intense quickly as the machine spewed fire and shot lazers at them. It spit hot tar and forced them back with a shock wave as it set crawler mines after them, causing Lunaea and the other healers to exaust their stores of mana and energy. It was a long battle. Hours had come and gone with no knowledge of them passing. More warriors being sent in as more fell. More healers, more bodies. It had taken countless mages and hunters throwing traps to clog the exhaust ports with ice so thick it couldnt be melted. At least not quickly. It wasn't until the machine sputtered and choked for a moment before the morale of the troops raised. It was going down.

Screeching once more, it sent out one last attempt to stop them. Crawler mines honed in on their targets, racing after them as their timers ticked along. Lunaea watched as a mine ran after the warrior standing next to her. She lifted her hands to heal him preemptively, the words of a spell on her lips. But the mine had leapt at him too quickly, and exploded mid-air before them both.

The draenai warrior had died instantly, the shrapnel shredding through his armor. Lunaea felt his life snuff out as quickly as a candle in a wind storm. He had felt no pain. Luna, who had been driven to her back from the force of the explosion, lifted her head just in time to see the siege weapon fall in a crumpled heap, steam and sparks shooting out of its mouth.

"Da beast be slain!" She heard Vol'jin exclaim over the cheers of the soldiers.

"You may have defeated my war machine, but the gate still stands." Yelled Nazgrim. The cheering stopped as though someone had stolen their voices. He was right. We had nothing left to cut down the gates with.

"You will not take Orgrimmar today"

"Anu'dora!" Lunaea gasped as she heard the voice of her priestess. She had spent alot of time in the Temple of Elune after her parents had died. She and her brother had been raised by the priests afterall. She would recognize that voice anywhere.

Loud thuds and the screech of metal grinding against metal sounded as countless glaives were pitched at the gates. Nightsabers mounted by Night Elf Sentinals lept easily over the defensive lines laid out, as the gates groaned and opened. The sheer force of the impacts having broken the hinges.

"What?!" Yelled Nazgrim in shock. "Kor'kron! To the gates, now!" Turning, the general ran further into the city beyond their sight, as Tyrande and the night elves assaulted the Orcs streaming from the opened gate.

"At them my sisters! For Kalimdor!" She shouted as she too assaulted the Orcs, spells of holy fire streaming from her lips. She was quite the terrible, beautiful, force to be seen. Seeminly stunned by the sudden turn of events, Vol'jin and Baine blinked heavily at the opened gates.

"Tyrande..." He mummbled.

"Don't think we're here to save you, troll. We're here for Kalimdor!" She exclaimed as her saber swiped at an oncoming Orc. "Get forces inside the gate while we distract the enemy!"

Nodding the affirmative, the troll leader turned and began to motion his forces inside, what was left of them.

Lunaea, having picked herself up off the ground, suddenly felt a sharp sensation in her side that caused her knees to buckle and almost send her right back to the dirt. Gasping and pressing her hand against it, she looked at her gloves and saw blood. Stumbling over to some abandoned Kor'kron crates, she sat and took her gloves off. Gently poking at her right side she felt something sharp jutting out of her skin. It must have been shrapnel from the bomb. Fingering around she found it to be about 6 inches long, and that she must be in shock if it didn't hurt that badly.

Taking a deep breath, she watched both horde and alliance forces stream into the gate as night elves fought with the Kor'kron. The wounded were carried outside of the defensive line and laid out on cots. The dead were put on the backs of wagons and taken to the docks. Soon she was alone. As she'd mentioned before, she hadn't exactly been accepted with open arms.

Deciding she'd waited long enough, she took a deep shuddering breath. Her shock was wearing off rapidly now, and it was begining to hurt. Reaching both arms around to grasp the sharp metal, she tugged. A short scream echoed against the city wall as she worked on it. It had barely moved.

"Must be lodged against a bone..." she mumbled to herself. Sweat beaded on her brow as she slowed worked at it, admitedly not making much progress. It wasn't until her hands began to shake that she stopped. Shakey hands could cause more damage than the initial wound.

Muttering curses in elvish, Lunaea snatched up her staff and began using it as a crutch. Sneaking her way past the ebbing battle with the Night Elves, she limped through the gates and into the city proper. It had obviously been cleared by the raiding forces. Corpses lined the streets. Every street. Blood was dripping from every possible place. The city had been fortified with Garroshs' assention to Warcheif, and everything was battle ready. Even the shops and houses had been lined with spikes to prevent aerial attacks. Numerous gryphons and wyverns were impaled on them, shot from the sky.

Stumbling over some broken crates, Luna fell to her knees with a hiss. She wasn't quite the physical force she had been years ago. Without her ability to shift, she had lost some of her muscle definition. She was softer. So she couldn't quite take the amount of pain she had formerly been used to.

Growling to herself she reached for her staff once again, but it was slightly out of reach. Stretching proved to be a bad idea as the metal in her side cut even deeper, causing her to clutch at her side as she cried out. She watched as blood dripped through her fingers and onto the dirt, turning it an ominous black color.

Darnassian curses flowed through her lips as she put pressure on her wound in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding. Sweat beaded on her brow as she sat there, growing more and more tired at the loss of blood but unable to muster the strength to move. That is, until she heard a faint cry off to her left side. She snapped to attention trying to find the source. Was someone injured?

Hearing it again drew her gaze upwards, to the wooden post she had overlooked. A troll woman was tied to it, arrows all around her and through her stomach and shoulder. They had used her for target practice! Breathing in a shuddering breath, Luna leapt to her feet, ignored her screaming side, and rushed over to the woman. Tears were in her eyes as she examined her. She had been shot hours before, possibly during the newest hours of the siege. Scrammbling in her boot, Luna pulled out a small knife, not much use in a battle, but enough to cut some ropes.

Doing her best to steady her hands, she sliced at the ropes with a desperate air. The woman fell as the ropes loosened, hitting the ground with a groan, Luna did her best to sit her up and lean her against the post. Gasping with the effort, she sat next to the woman as her breath left her. Her side felt warmer than ever, and the previous throbbing had evolved into a constant pain. Moving to her knees, Luna noticed the position of the arrows. There was one in each shoulder, not near any vital points. The one in her stomach however, was a much more gruesome wound. If it had peirced any of the organs inside, she would die reguardless of what she did.

The womans eyes met hers. A dark dark red reminiscent of rubies. Her hair had been a lovely shade of blue and tied into an elegant plait. But now it was dirty and half of it had been hacked off with rough blades. They had wanted to humiliate her as well as kill her. Lunaeas eyes grew hard as she reached for the arrow in her left shoulder. It had went clean through the meat. Reaching behind her, she broke off the arrow head at the shaft before yanking it out quickly. The woman screamed and tried to lurch forward but Luna held her still. Reaching for the other side before the woman could stop her, she noticed the arrow hadnt went cleanly through, but had stopped at her shoulder bone. She wouldnt be able to push it through. It would have to be cut out.

Looking right in the womans eyes, she said, "You will have to hold very still." As she flashed her knife. The trolls eyes grew wide as she saw the knife, not understanding her. Sighing, the night elf motioned to her shoulder and tapped the knife against the shaft of the arrow, only causing the troll to jump as it rang against the wood. Narrowing her eyes, Lunaea concentrated as roots suddenly sprang up around the troll woman and lashed her to the post once again. Her scream was silenced as Luna flashed the knife before her eyes. It wasn't her intention to scare her more, but she would do what she had to.

Motioning the vines from around the wounds, she took a deep breath before she began cutting. She drew a line upwards and downwards from where the arrow had peirced her. Though it was a relatively small cut, the woman still screamed, beleiving she was being tortured again, before the arrow was suddenly removed from her shoulder, and swirling green tendrils worked their way into the cut.

Lunaea was left gasping as she felt her mana drain. She was already weak, but this latest expenditure left her eyes blurry for a moment. Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, she now looked to the wound in the trolls abdomen. All this effort would be wasted if her stomach had been pierced.

Sighing deeply, Luna made sure the roots were good and tight before leaning towards the last arrow, before the woman screamed louder than ever before. Snapping her head up to see what the fuss was about, Lunaea was met with a plated gauntlet to her face. Her teeth clicked together as she rolled to the side to avoid another blow. Adrenaline pumped fast as she rolled to her feet and saw a battered orc before her. His eyes were wide and bloodshot as he roared at her, bareing his long teeth at her. For a moment she thought he was protecting the troll woman. She saw his Kor'kron tabard a moment before he lunged at the tied troll, and began kicking and punching at her with reckless brutality. She screamed as he kicked at her face and abdomen, before reaching for the arrow in her stomach. He ripped it out and began to stab her with it repeatedly, her screams dulling into heart breaking sobs.

Lunaea screamed as she charged at him, her tiny knife in her hands. The orc ignored her until she tackled him to the ground. Her knife flashed as she stabbed it down but he deflected it with his gauntlet, and elbowed her in the nose. She saw stars for a moment before he threw her off. Again she rolled to get some distance, but he was upon her. The arrow whistled as he brought it down onto the top of her right shoulder. Luna screamed into the orcs face before biting him. She latched onto his nose and bit down until she tasted blood. He roared his agony and punched her in the stomach, it felt like a battering ram and tears began to leak from her eyes.

A steel fist to her temple had her on hands and knees trying not to vomit out everything in her gut. Her vision was blurry as the orc walked over to the troll woman. The roots previously holding her still had retreated, lost with Lunas concentration. She could only watch as the orc picked the woman up by her shoulders. She looked so small in his hands as he roared at her, before he slammed her to the ground and stomped on her. Time slowed to a grinding halt as the womans head lolled. Her eyes, so much like rubies, met Lunaeas as the light left them. A moment that only Lunaea could have with her.

Hot tears burned the night elfs eyes. Rage flowed through her, giving her a renewed vigor and determination. Standing, she gazed at the orc, standing above that broken body, and ran at him. She had him pinned against the same post the troll was on, her hands around his throat. She screamed angrily in his face, her nails digging into his skin as he gasped for air. Tears streamed down her face, hot and angry, as she squeezed her nails into his throat, but her adrenaline was subsiding and her grip was growing weaker, the orcs hands on her arm began to pull her away. Screaming again, Luna felt a sensation like flowing water cover her hand, and claws were suddenly deep in the orcs throat.

He gurgled, gasping for breath as blood ran down his throat and into his lungs. Grabbing an arrow from the post with her free hand, Luna stabbed him through his shoulder and pushed until she felt it bite into the wood. Doing the same with the other shoulder, she grabbed a handful of meat with her newly clawed hand and yanked it out. The orcs eyes were wide as she threw the bloody pile to the ground and shook the blood from her 'hand'. He gurgled for a few more moments as Luna ran to the troll woman. Placing her hand on the womans cheek, she began to cry again as she saw her eyes again. She was gone.

Closing the womans eyes gently, she noticed her hand was a normal night elf hand again, but the long claws and pearlescent fur was burned into her mind. Sniffling, Luna lifted her head and looked around. She was in a dead city. No one was around except corpses. She was covered in blood, only a small portion hers, and alone. The woman she had tried to save was dead, her killer was dead. She felt numb again, like she had when she had returned to a different world. Everything she had ever had was gone. Even her gear. The only thing she had managed to salvage was some old gear from her first year on Northrend, she had stored it in a goblin bank in Stranglethorn. Goblins, being notorious for their greed, had kept it. It had taken a few threats and a more than a few bribes, but when it was finally returned to her, she had been able to transfer her newer powers into it. But now, the gear she had been awarded from the green dragonflight was bloody, and cut open, and covered in mud as she sat on her knees in the bloody streets of Orgrimaar, crying as she held the hand of a corpse.

And that was how Vol'jin and Tyrande found her.

TTT I hear ya frozenpally, I took a loooong time writing this. My muse has not been kind lately. I've had this written about 4 times but each time I didn't want it to go that way and deleted it. But I think I've got it now! Oh and the set she has now is the Valorous Dreamwalker Set, my current transmog and favorite set!


End file.
